In Spain there's the king - and then there's Antonio.
quote by Melanie Griffith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Emperor of Germany is the king of kings, the King of Spain king of men, the King of France king of asses, the King of England king of devils.
If I Were King
I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.
If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.
If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.
I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.
If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.
If I were King of Babylon,
I'd leave my button gloves undone.
If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I'd think of lovely things to do.
If I were King of anything,
I'd tell the soldiers, "I'm the King!"
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Spain is not a racist country.
quote by Juan Antonio Samaranch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Godlike
I am very sorry I made mistake
It won't happen again.
You stated king Juan Carlos of spain.
Great really you are great to realised
Your mistake and said these above.
People are really more important.
Save people from severe economic crisis
And do good to people that is permanent.
Doing work for people's welfare are really holy
Than elephant-hunting and making merry.
You King Juan Carlos of spain
Knowledge regain and having human
You are superhuman
You are really Godlike
And favourite to man.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Gil, the Toreador
THE QUEEN sat in her balcony,
The Loveliest of Spain;
Beneath rode all the chivalry,
And roses fell like rain
To crown the gallant gentlemen
The gonfalon who bore:
A woman’s favor fell for one,—
Gil, the Toreador.
Beneath the royal canopy,
To see the red bull slain,
They sat, like loyal lovers,
The King and Queen of Spain.
Came marshal, noble, knight and squire,
Chulo and picador:
Of all a woman saw but one,—
Gil, the Toreador.
The trumpets clanged, the sport was on,
The royal sport of Spain;
Maddened by shouts and thrust of lance
The bull now charged amain:
Down to their death went chulos then,
And many a matador:—
A woman only knew there fell
Gil, the Toreador.
When through the streets of proud Madrid
Swept next the courtly train,
Sat not upon her balcony
The Loveliest of Spain.
Long live the King and his fair Queen,
Still loyal thousands roar:—
None know what woman died when fell
Gil, the Toreador.
poem by Charles Harper Webb
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Drink water like an ox, wine like the king of Spain.
Peddling Round the World
When at first in foreign parts
Was her flag unfurled,
England was a Gipsy lass
Peddling round the world.
Sailing on the Spanish Main—
Everywhere you roam—
Peddling in the Persian Gulf
Things she’d made at home.
Peddling round the world,
Peddling round the world—
England was a Gipsy lass
Peddling round the world.
England never wanted war,
Not on land or sea—
Other nations rising up
Couldn’t let her be.
England only wanted peace,
And the ocean’s breath;
So there came, in course of time,
Queen Elizabeth.
Queen Elizabeth—
Queen Elizabeth—
Came a plain, bad-tempered queen,
Called Elizabeth.
Queen Elizabeth, she called
Drake, and Raleigh too—
Essex, Howard, and the rest
Of the pirate crew;
“See what you can do,” she said.
“England’s feeling sick—
If you don’t, I’ll hang you all!
Better do it quick.”
“Better do it quick,” she said—
“Better do it quick”;
And they knew she’d keep her word,
So they did it quick.
Drake and Raleigh sailed away—
(Only Bess they feared)
Cleared the Spanish Main and singed
The King of Spain his beard—
Singed the King of Spain his beard,
And his hair they curled.
England was a Gipsy’s love
Peddling round the world.
Peddling round the world,
Peddling round the world.
England was a Gipsy’s love
Peddling round the world.
Once again, when Cromwell came,
England wanted room;
So he lowered Holland’s tone,
Smashed the Dutchman’s broom.
Sent a message to Algiers;
Made its meaning plain—
On the way they called once more
On the King of Spain.
On the King of Spain—
On the King of Spain:
Called, to jog his memory,
On the King of Spain.
So the years went round and round,
Over hills and flats—
England was a Gipsy wife—
England had her brats;
Peddling in the China Sea,
Far from English ground;
Doing biz with Mrs. Jap—
Peddling all around.
Peddling all around—
Peddling all around;
Making friends with Mrs. Jap—
Peddling all around.
When the war is past and gone,
With its blood and tears;
And the world may count upon
Peace for fifty years—
When the gory battle-flags
Round their sticks are furled—
Then you’ll see a Gipsy crone
Peddling round the world.
Peddling round the world—
Peddling round the world.
Then you’ll see a Gipsy crone
A-peddling round the world!
Shawl as old as Joseph’s coat,
Hair as white as snow,
Mind as bright as Seventeen—
Eyes still like the sloe—
Peddling in the Southern Seas—
Everywhere you roam—
And she’ll fill her baskets here
With things we’ll make at home.
Things we’ll make at home—
Things we’ll make at home—
Call to fill her baskets here
With things we’ll make at HOME.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Raoul & The Kings Of Spain
When the seventh of the seventh son
Comes along and breaks the chains
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Making it plain, making it sane
To turn this loss into a gain
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Did you know your father was an island
Did you know your mother was the sea
Can we ever hope to seek asylum
From the bounds of fate and family
When the seventh of the seventh son
Comes along and breaks the chains
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Making it plain, making it sane
To turn this loss into a gain
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Did you know all mothers come from heaven
Did you know all fathers come from hell
That is why theyre at sixes and seven
That is why their marriage isnt well
When the seventh of the seventh son
Comes along and breaks the chains
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Making it plain, making it sane
To turn this loss into a gain
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
Raoul, raoul, raoul and the kings of spain
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Letter From Spain
I read the papers this morning
I saw your photograph
You look good in the movie
It must be so much fun
Letter from spain
From someone I once knew
I got a letter this morning
Postmark said it was from spain
Your writing is so very strange
I guess it always was that way
Letter from spain
From someone I once knew
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Girl In You Antonio?
the girl in you antonio
must have been smothered
all the red ribbons now kept
secret in your closets but
now the woman speaks
about the porcelain plates
and the scented water
that lay so cold in the tub.
the girl in you antonio
does not die, it creeps
like a lizard in your skin
and faces you as a doll.
if indeed the child is the
father of man, so antonio
the girl in you shall be the
mother of all your desires.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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San Antonio Rose
(words & music: bob wills)
... remember alone in my heart
Call back my love of san antonio
Just pretend like tales fall apart
Think once again of my love, my own
A few words not known .... my heart I belong...
I dont know... of my rose in san antonio
Growing all this tender lala heart
Call back my love in san antonio
Its so sweet and tender like peddles fall apart....
Rose in san antonio... know my rose in san antonio
(note: sorry... but I couldnt make more of it)
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Trip
The King of Spain
Slipped on adobe
While hunting
Elephants in Chobe
Had he not gone
And bust his hip
We'd have never heard
Of his careless trip.
poem by Frank Bana
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Los Reyes Catolicos
When time is like a needle
And night is the longest day
A home is a cathedral
A place where a king can pray
Ghosts all gone
Ghosts all gone
To another plane
Los Reyes Catolicos
Los Reyes Catolicos
Los Reyes Catolicos
Los Reyes Catolicos
Ghosts all gone
Ghosts all gone
To another plane
Los Reyes Catolicos
Los Reyes Catolicos
A home is like a castle
A place where a king can reign
Los Reyes Catolicos
Raoul and The Kings of Spain
Ghosts all gone
Ghosts all gone
Ghosts all gone
To another plane
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Raoul & The Kings Of Spain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spain is not here anymore, it remains in America. In Mexico you get the purest essence of Spain.
Ramon Maria del Valle-Inclan in Almond Blossoms (Flores de almendro) (1936), translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The restaurant chefs in Spain are breaking ground, but in terms of the everyday cooking in Spain I still hear people coming back and saying they were disappointed. I think it's because they're expecting the chef stuff.
quote by Sally Schneider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am not quite sure where home is right now. I do have places in London and Milan, and a house in Spain. I guess I would say home is where my mother is, and she lives in Spain.
quote by Sarah Brightman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was an Old Person of Spain,
Who hated all trouble and pain;
So he sat on a chair,
With his feet in the air,
That umbrageous Old Person of Spain.
quote by by Edward Lear
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'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes.
quote by Miguel de Cervantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spain
Across New England snows
Flash visions from afar,
Lithe gipsies on their toes
Dancing to gay guitar;
With gesture fierce, bizarre,
They lilt some old refrain
In whose wild measures are
The witcheries of Spain.
The stinging north wind blows,
But with a ruddy jar
Poised on her proud head goes
A maiden like a star
While, biting his cigar,
Her lover, scorned again,
Loads on his ass-drawn car
The oranges of Spain.
As keen as cameos
Against yon gray cloud-bar
Shine out a tower of rose,
A spire like flaming spar,
Gold shrines whose candles char
The world to ashes, train
Of pilgrims, globular
Pomegranates flushed with Spain.
What freak of calendar,
What frostwork on the pane,
What angry sleet can mar
My picture-book of Spain?
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Lands Far Away
One eye is made for gathering juice from a peach,
This peach called England, and not Italy.
They roll these eyes, as if goers of lands far away
Result in boredom for themselves, like Italy and Spain.
They roll their arms and strut on their legs,
Both of them caught inside tough weight of fruit and flesh.
One other eye has contacted the Brain, as far as the lane,
And what can inspire us into dreams
As much as sleep?
The English weather has a rainy day, an answer to question,
Then given over a Sunday lunch.
They go to Italy or Spain if tired, yet resent the art of going.
Go all to the beaches of Spain, or all go away.
poem by Naveed Akram
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